* * * * *
Meantime the pair under discussion were making their way homewards across the park, Lucy rather silent, Hector discoursing on Hector and that person's recent achievements. He was feeling particularly pleased with himself this evening, and, as a result, more than a little kindly towards his companion. At length, even the topic of self was exhausted, and a sudden rather awkward pause ensued, whereupon Lucy managed to find her voice.
"When do you expect to join your regiment in India, Mr. Graeme," she said, "soon, I suppose, now? How you must be looking forward to it."
Graeme's face clouded. "Next September, I believe, that is, if I do go out. Don't think I shall, though, I've more than half a mind to send in my papers and cut the whole show."
"Surely not, Mr. Graeme, at your age. What on earth would you do with yourself? You couldn't idle for the rest of your life."
"Couldn't I? I could idle very well, Miss Caldwell, besides, I should always find plenty to do with shooting, hunting, and golf. Those are my interests, and pretty good ones too, I think."
"But surely a mere life of sport wouldn't content you. Don't you want to get on in your profession? Really, Mr. Graeme, I cannot understand a man holding such views."
"Perhaps not, but it's a fact all the same. I've no wish to get on, as you call it, indeed I loathe soldiering. What's the good of it after all, what can it lead to? I've no doubt if I chose I could be as good a soldier as any of them, but I don't choose. It's a life of slavery, the army, it's being at the beck and call of every silly fool who happens to have more gold lace on his hat than you have; and then the end—to become a general, a snuffy, purple-faced old ass, like——"
"Like whom, Mr. Graeme?"
"Oh, like Grampus, my present lord at Canterbury, who, when he gives a luncheon party, has the lot of us strutting past him on foot parade to show his importance and amuse his lady friends."